


you could be the one who listens to my deepest inquisitions

by cedarwoods



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Finale, Root is Alive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 06:16:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8879185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cedarwoods/pseuds/cedarwoods
Summary: Shaw reflects on the day Root was shot. Root helps her work through her worries.





	

Sunlight filtered in through the light grey curtains in the bedroom, casting a warm glow across the hollows of Root’s cheeks. She scrunched her face and rolled onto her opposite side, settling into a luxurious sprawl as she burrowed more deeply beneath the covers. 

In her semi-sleep-addled state, she was vaguely aware that Sameen’s half of the bed was cool and unoccupied, indicating that she had already been up and about for a while. 

_Nothing unexpected,_ she thought. Shaw was highly disciplined and rose every morning at 6am for a one-hour jog. On Saturdays in particular, upon returning and showering, she would make banana chocolate chip pancakes from scratch for the two of them. Their scent would waft tantalizingly through the apartment and—

And the smell of pancakes was conspicuously absent today. 

Root stirred as she realized something was amiss. 

Sameen constantly insisted on ensuring Root was well fed and rested. She would often carry Root firefighter-style away from her laptop, grumbling about her poor lifestyle choices. (“For fuck’s sake Root, you’re hardware, not software or whatever. Take care of your goddamn body.”) She had even demanded that the Machine provide her with detailed updates about Root’s meals and sleep schedule. That she was not here flipping pancakes, then, was highly unusual. 

“Sam?” she called. 

Silence. 

“Sam?” she called again, more loudly. 

The silence persisted. It was eerie and uncomfortable, and she found herself suffocating in it. It inexplicably reminded her of the lengthy period in which she was constantly travelling alone, shedding identities every couple of days, without the Machine guiding her. 

Root jolted up, then immediately regretted her hastiness, as the old wound across her chest began to ache in protest. “Fuck!” she hissed. Gritting her teeth, she clambered out of bed more cautiously. 

As though sensing that Root was up, Bear cantered toward her from their spacious living room, panting happily. 

Root huffed in exasperation and amusement. The whole world could be crumbling, but Bear, a trained killer, would nonetheless carry on with innocent exuberance. Root and Shaw both loved that about him; he had been an immeasurable source of comfort for each of them when they had lost one another. 

She bent down and patted his flank. “I guess you’re hungry, huh?” Bear woofed in assent, and Root slipped on her bunny slippers and led him to the kitchen, where she poured him a bowl of his kibble. 

_Well,_ she thought drolly, _at least someone’s breakfast needs are accounted for._

As he lapped up his food, Root padded back to the bedroom and attached the external component of her cochlear implant.

“Can you hear me?” she asked, opening the doors to her closet. 

“Absolutely,” the Machine said in Root’s own lilting voice. 

Root acknowledged the comment with a slight nod as she hurriedly rummaged through her clothes.

“You’re tense.” 

“You know me better than anyone,” Root replied, “so you know exactly what’s on my mind.” She divested herself of her pajamas – consisting of one of Shaw’s black tank tops and sweatpants – and tugged on a navy blue sweater and dark jeans. “Has anything happened to Sameen? Is she working a number?” 

“Well, no. She’s not in trouble,” the Machine mused, “but she is troubled.” 

“And so am I,” Root sighed, as she shrugged on one of her customary form-fitting leather jackets. “Where is she?”

“I can only guess. She took a detour during her run and clung to the shadow map. I can’t see her right now.” 

Root paused as she tucked her guns into her belt. She glanced at Sameen’s beside table: her phone lay abandoned next to her Order of Lenin, which she usually kept in the drawer. She had evidently taken care to cut off all access from the Machine. “She’s…hiding from you? Why would she be hiding from you?” Root wondered. 

“You know the answer to that,” the Machine said gently. “Some wounds run deep. So much so that they never truly heal.” 

Root winced as she vividly imagined Shaw repeatedly shooting herself in the head. 

_(Bullets. Blood. Brains.)_

_(Bullets. Blood. Brains.)_

The mantra reverberated hauntingly through Root’s mind. Shaw’s nightmares had decreased in frequency, but not in intensity. She would wake suddenly sometimes, tense and drenched in sweat. After that, she would only surrender to the lull of sleep when Root rocked her in her arms and soothingly rubbed her back. 

Root was infuriated – both with herself for not being able to do more and with Samaritan for aggressively hacking its way into Shaw’s most private space. 

“So she’s associating you with Samaritan?” Root pressed. 

“To an extent,” the Machine said slowly, “but I think the issue is deeper than that.” 

Root had an inkling of what the Machine was insinuating. She waited with bated breath, but the Machine did not elaborate. 

“She needs me. I’m going after her,” Root announced, albeit unnecessarily. 

“Of course. But I won’t be accompanying you.” 

“I understand,” Root murmured. “Sameen and I will work through this together.”

Root clipped on Bear’s leash. “Up for a little scavenger hunt, buddy? We’re going to look for Sameen.”

Bear eagerly trotted to the door with Root in tow, and the two stepped out into the crisp, clear autumn day.  
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
Half an hour later, the pair found Sameen sitting on a roundabout in an empty park nestled between the trees, sheltered from the din of the city. She was clad in a familiar dark heather grey hoodie zipped to the top. 

She looked almost meditative, Root thought, but she could see the faint traces of vulnerability rippling beneath Shaw’s outward tranquility. Bear yipped and bounded over to her, disrupting her reverie. 

“Hey Sexy,” Shaw said as she stroked his fur and narrowly avoided his tongue. 

“Hey yourself,” Root said with a (non-)wink as she kissed Shaw’s cheek. 

“I was talking to the dog,” she retorted half-heartedly. 

Root tilted her head patronizingly. “Sure.” Her expression quickly became serious, and she gestured to the roundabout. “Mind if I join you?”

Shaw shook her head and wordlessly pushed a pile of leaves off the platform to make space for her. 

Root sat down beside her. A prolonged quiescence reigned over them, broken only by the rustling of leaves, chirping of birds and barking of Bear, who was now delightedly chasing squirrels. Root occasionally cast a sidelong glance at Sameen, but the latter was gazing away contemplatively. 

Eventually, Root asked, “What brings you out here?” 

There was another long pause. Then, “I never told you about this place, huh?” Shaw continued to avert Root’s eyes as she idly picked up a leaf and began to shred it. 

Root shook her head. Shaw had always been reticent when their discussions turned to her time in Samaritan’s clutches. Root had never forced the issue out of respect for Shaw’s privacy. With a pang of guilt, she realized that the problems and fears that they did not resolve had perhaps accumulated to unbearable levels, and that what she was witnessing could be the breaking point. 

“This is where I’d take you in the simulations. Towards the end,” Shaw said softly. 

Sorrow began to seep onto Root’s face. “Oh Sam…”

“It’s been a while since I last came here.” Shaw opened her palm and watched as the torn pieces of leaves fluttered away. “You wanted to know why I’m here today,” she stated, turning at last towards Root. “Do you know what today is?” 

Root hesitated, then shook her head. 

“October 29th. One year since you…since Jeff van Douchebro shot you.” Shaw scowled as she uttered Root’s would-be killer’s name. 

Root grasped her hand and held it to her chest. “I’m here now,” she said. “You found me. Just like you always do.” 

Shaw ran her hand across the area where Root’s scar lay. “It still hurts you, doesn’t it.” It was not a question.

“Yes,” Root breathed. There was no point in lying; she had known it was foolish to assume she could conceal her pain from Shaw, who had been by her side during every step of her arduous road to rehabilitation. “But Sam, it’s not your fault. You know that. Whatever happened that day – it’s not your fault.”

Shaw slid her hand off Root’s sternum. “I sent you away.” Her voice was steady as usual, but Root heard faint twinges of regret. 

Survivor’s guilt. Root was all too familiar with it, and had been plagued for nine long months with black and blue visions of her screaming desperately from behind an elevator gate as Shaw crumbled before her. The substance of Shaw’s nightmares was becoming clearer…

“I’ve always tried to be there for you, to save your ass whenever it needed saving. I died 7053 times for you,” Shaw said quietly. “But I didn’t protect you when it mattered most.” 

“You _were_ protecting me,” Root insisted. “The mission was getting Harold to safety. You couldn’t have possibly known what would happen after we drove away.”

Shaw’s dark, solemn eyes directly met Root’s warm brown ones. “You’re my mission. Have been for years.” 

Not for the first time, a warm, rushing feeling coursed through Root’s veins as the depth of Shaw’s concern for her was revealed. Root caressed Shaw’s face. “You’ve taken such good care of me, Sameen.” She recalled the countless instances in which Shaw had come rushing to her aid, carefully patched her up after missions, and caught her when she stumbled during their rehab sessions. “I…I didn’t really have anyone to look out for me. Not until I met you and the Machine.”

Root blinked back tears as she and Shaw gazed at each other. She was sure Shaw, too, was remembering one of the last conversations they had had on that fateful day last year: _Actually Sameen…I’ve been hiding since I was 12. This might be the first time I feel like I belong._

“We can’t dwell on the times we almost lost each other,” Root said gently. “I learned that the hard way. We’re together now. That’s all that matters.” 

“It’s just…” Shaw trailed off, struggling to find the words to express her thoughts. “I still feel as though I might lose you at any moment. Like you…I don’t know, like you’ll fade away into computer code.”

( _Again_ was the unspoken thought.) 

They had arrived at the pith of the problem. Root opened her mouth slightly, then shut it again, deciding instead to wait for Shaw to elaborate on her hidden fears. 

“I sometimes wonder if you’re just too…fucking _extra_ to be contained in a body,” Shaw said with a wry huff of laughter. She took Root’s hand and laced their fingers together. “I like this shape of yours,” she said, tracing delicate patterns on Root’s smooth skin. “For a long time, all I had were my memories of you. You kept me safe. But in the end, you disappeared in all those simulations. And sometimes, the Machine using your voice just reminded me that I would never see you again, because I could never hold onto simulations of you. And…and now…I just – I want – mmpf.” 

Shaw’s rambling was muffled as Root, who had been surreptitiously sidling closer to her, abruptly enveloped her in a bone-crushing hug, cradling her head. After her initial shock, Shaw melted into Root’s embrace. “I just want to hold onto you,” she whispered. 

Root finally let go of Shaw and affectionately brushed a tendril of her hair out of her eyes. “Being human can be painful and messy and inelegant. Sometimes…sometimes the pain is too excruciating to bear. Sometimes I feel like I’m a burden on you,” she admitted. 

“You’re not,” Shaw interjected sharply, eyebrows furrowed. “Don’t ever say that.”

Root smiled. “You’re very sweet, Sweetie.” She took Shaw’s hand in hers again. “I wouldn’t change any of it. I wouldn’t erase any of my mistakes or suffering,” she said softly, “because it brought me to you. To the team. She taught me to value human life, but I’ve never felt more human than when I’m with you.” 

Shaw was staring intensely at her, and she could see a glimmer of – something – in the depths of her eyes. It looked like Shaw was searching for the words to respond to her confession, but Root wasn’t done yet. She took a steadying breath as she prepared to deliver her final, most important secret:

“I would die for the Machine. I almost did. But for you, I would live. I chose to live.” Perhaps it was her dying hallucination, but Root thought the Machine had adopted Shaw’s voice, telling her that help was on the way. Shaw had been her motivation to resist death – just as she had been for Shaw. “I did promise you that I would never leave you again,” she added quietly. 

Shaw nodded once as though to herself. She swallowed hard and leaned against the handrail. “I got by for a while when you were gone…but it really fucking sucked,” she said flatly. “It was too…silent.”

“Why Sameen,” Root purred, “Are you admitting to having missed my overt come-ons?”

“Root Ex Machina flirted shamelessly with me,” Shaw grumbled. 

“She still does, darlin’.” 

“Yeah, well anyway, that’s not what I meant.” She hesitated then pointed to her heart. “It was silent in here. It was like…uh…” 

“Like the voices in the old tape had stopped talking altogether,” Root said, remembering the Order of Lenin on the bedside table. She had been so focused on Shaw’s phone that she hadn’t realized at the time that Shaw had probably been examining the medallion before she left. “Like the noise in the system had been sucked out.” 

“Can’t make a symphony without sound,” Shaw sighed. “I just felt empty when you were gone.” 

It had never occurred to Root that silences were uncomfortable for Shaw too, albeit in a different way. They had composed their own symphony: one of gunshots and four-alarm fires and radio static tapping Morse code; one of clattering cutlery and poorly-timed flirting and moaning. They were lethal: they were loving. Their music underscored that they belonged together. 

“What about now?” Root leaned in until her lips were hovering by the conch of Shaw’s ear. “Can you hear me?” she asked, her voice low and intimate. 

Root felt a swell of satisfaction as Shaw barely suppressed a shudder. “Yes,” Shaw whispered. 

She turned. Their lips were now mere millimeters apart. Shaw’s eyes darted to Root’s mouth. She began to close the almost-nonexistent distance between them, but Root suddenly ducked and kissed the sensitive, unblemished skin on Shaw’s neck, just by her ear. “I’m here now,” Root crooned. This time, Shaw could not stop herself from shivering. 

The moment was interrupted, however, as Shaw’s stomach rumbled. Root laughed. 

“All this feelings talk made me hungry,” Shaw said defensively. 

“I think it’s time for you to cook us some breakfast while I lecture you on metaphysics,” Root teased as she nudged Shaw’s shoulder. “And if you’re absolutely ravenous,” she whispered seductively, “I can think of something else you can eat afterward.” 

Shaw smirked, then stood, pulling Root up alongside her. She whistled. “Bear!” 

As Bear trotted back to them, Root cupped Sameen’s face and tenderly kissed her forehead. “Let’s go home.” 

Shaw stood on her tiptoes, tugged Root’s jaw down and pressed their lips together. Several blissful moments later, they pulled apart, sighing into each other’s mouths. 

“I am home. Here. With you,” Shaw said quietly. 

Root smiled. She draped her arm across Sameen’s shoulders and drew her close, nuzzling her cheek. Sameen in turn wrapped an arm around her lover’s slim waist. She held Bear’s leash in her other hand. Together, the women and their dog walked away, red and golden leaves billowing gently in their wake.


End file.
